


Betrayal

by FluffyGoddess



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Victorian!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGoddess/pseuds/FluffyGoddess
Summary: Short little smut thing written for the Jaime x Brienne Week prompt, Betrayal.
In which Jaime, the lovable rake, has finally wedded the shy, respectable gentlewoman of his dreams, and thinks she ought to laze around in bed with him of a morning.





	

                "You are betrayed by your own blush, Brienne!"

                "Shut up," she grumbled, her cheeks flaming.  Jaime, being Jaime, kept snickering.

                "Deny it all you like, my wife – if you can."

                She huffed, rolling over and facing the window.  The drapes were still drawn, though it was so late in the morning that she'd heard Mr Peck turning away callers downstairs.  Her husband followed her across the bed, rattling her morning cup of tea right off and onto the carpet.

                "Must you always be an ass?" she asked, as coldly as she could.  His arm came round her waist while his knee nudged the back of hers; she wriggled, unsure if she wanted to let him pull her snug against him or not.

                "In every life, and every world," he declared.  "You'd be confused if I weren't."

                "That doesn't make it a virtue!"

                "I leave the virtues to you.  You're better at them."

                She rolled her eyes.

                "You're no rake, sir, and you'll not fool me on _that_ score again."

                "Mmm."  He kissed her neck, slow and hot and very, very intent.  Like the seducer in one of the more salacious penny dreadfuls, and with even greater effect.  "No?  What else do you call a man who sends the servants away and keeps his new bride in bed so late on a Saturday, wantonly naked with him?"

                He fingered the well-abused tip of her nipple knowingly, punctuating his question with a lick at the back of her ear.

                "I call him husband," she breathed.  He uttered a pleased sound.  And then another, even happier, when she made bold enough to reach up and take him by the wrist, drawing his hand down to where she wanted it.

                "You're not too sore?"

                "No," she promised.  "Please."

                "Oh, my wench," he groaned, and she closed her eyes.  He opened her gently, warm and steady against her back even as she shuddered, the stretch of him inside her not yet familiar.  As soon as his prick was safely in his fingers went back to her nub, and she smiled.  "What were we even arguing about?"

                He rocked into her, and she bit her lip.  A little sore, perhaps – they'd been married less than a week, and her body hadn't quite caught up yet.  But he was careful, and she was eager, and if she sat gingerly, well, her husband was the only one who'd notice.

                "You were arguing we should stay in bed all day," she panted.  He twisted his fingertips against her, and she felt her spine melt.  " _Oh_.  That, again."

                "This?"

                "Y-es."

                He kissed her cheek, and then her mouth when she turned her head.  Lazy, smug kisses.  She adored these kisses, and he knew it, and there seemed to be no honest way to avoid increasing his arrogance when they were abed.

                "I'm winning the argument."

                "Shut _up,_ husband," she ordered.

                "Yes, my lady."

                "Shut –"

                He muffled the command before she could repeat it.  She whimpered and gave in, leaving their quarrel to be picked up after lunch.


End file.
